Kaleidoscopic Realities
by Mourning Bloodytears
Summary: Hannah has somehow been able to slip in and out of the realm where Justice is imprisoned through her dreams. The messiah Gear realizes he may have found a way to escape... A bit of an AU fic but not by very much.
1. Never a Dream

**Note** – _This fanfic will be slightly AU. How will it be slightly AU? Well, I'm gonna change Justice's gender from a she to a he. Yes, I know that Justice is a female, and yes the mother of Dizzy, but since this is AU some slight things are prone to change… well, gender-wise for a Command Gear anyways._

~~~

Hannah knew she was dreaming. She was aware of this fact because she had closed her eyes as she settled in for the night, in her bed. Whenever she dreamed, Hannah experienced a sense of weightlessness that encompassed her whole body. Her dreams were always vivid - everything that she dreamt seemed in some way to be real. That somehow, the dream world that she visited was another dimension altogether and her spirit had found a way to break free of the body and visit it.

In Hannah's dream, she was floated in an inky blackness. No, blackness wasn't able to describe what she was seeing before her. The term was too simple to explain what Hannah was not only seeing but feeling. It was more like a... a void. Her feet dangled over the darkness with no trace of ground below, her arms felt like lead weights dragging her down into the nothingness. Hannah's whole body felt sluggish. Her eyelids felt heavy and Hannah, in a brief moment, thought it was hilarious that she was dreaming of sleeping. How ironic could that be?

_Another being here?_

The voice startled Hannah. Her eyes opened in surprise and she turned quickly, her hands already balled into fists as she searched for the owner of the voice. The feeling of tiredness left her body and was instead replaced with wariness. Brown irises darted left and right, intently searching the void in front of her. It was the first time in any of Hannah's dreams that she had heard a voice. The young woman felt like her personal place had been invaded, that someone she did not invite was watching her.

The voice spoke once more. _I thought no one else could come here. That I was the only one exiled here. Did the Sacred Knighthood find, within their righteous hearts, someone else to imprison in this hell? Another Gear such as I?_

Contempt and sarcasm, as hot as burning lead, filled the void around Hannah. The voice boomed, the sound similar to thunder. It was filled with authority, as strong as steel and as unbreakable as a mountain. Hannah whirled around in the dark void as pinpricks of light, few at first but then growing in number, began to fill up the void. Fear made its presence known. She no longer liked this dream. In her dreams, Hannah was in control. 

But she was no longer in control here.

"Whoever you are, get the hell outta here!" Hannah yelled her threat into the void. More points of light burst in her vision. "Get the hell outta my dreams! You are not welcomed here!"

_A dream? Do you think this is a dream, this vast void? That what I am is a dream? Is that all I have become now, something that people will-_

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Hannah clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to hear that voice anymore and she no longer wanted to be in this dream.

_This is not a dream._ Hannah gasped, opening her eyes. How could the voice read her thoughts? _I am not a voice, and this is not a dream. This place is something else altogether. You have stumbled, unknowingly, into this realm. Curious that a human could do something so remarkable. I would have thought that only Gears would have been capable of such things._

"Gear? A realm? No, this is a dream! A dream!"

Hannah felt movement behind her. A large figure; a shadow crossed over her's. The girl saw that the _thing behind her was massive. A hand moved, coming towards her. That did it for Hannah. Her dream had become a nightmare; she was no longer in control. Pumping her legs furiously, Hannah began to run away from the shadow, from the figure. She raced towards one of the points of light, her breath catching painfully in her throat as she tried to place distance between her and the creature._

_You cannot run from me. If you leave, then sooner or later you will return to this place._

The nightmare was catching up behind Hannah. Already she felt tired, as if she had run a marathon. With one outstretched hand Hannah reached towards a distance ball of light. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that if she touched it, then she would be all right. That she would be able to leave this dream world and never come back.

_You are fooling yourself! Sooner or later you will return. Once you have crossed into one dimension, it remembers you. An imprint has been made; a door has been opened and the wind will sweep you back in!_

Her hand shaking, sweat trickling down her face from the exertion, Hannah strained to touch the orb. A fingertip just brushed the edge of the burning light, then, throwing herself forwards with a painful cry, Hannah's hand enclosed over the shining orb. There was a shift and then...

... Hannah found herself sitting bolt upright in her bed, clutching the sheets to her chest as her heart hammered away. Shakily she reached out and flicked on the blue lamp that stood on her night table. The darkness in her bedroom retreated from the sudden light. Hannah warily looked around, expecting the voice in her dream to have followed her into the waking world. 

Nothing was hiding behind her dresser, and over near the closet her schoolbag was in exactly the same position as she had left it after coming home. Her bedroom door was closed; pinned up on the wall behind it the poster of a dragon, the image frozen for all time, looked back at the girl as if wondering why she should be scared of a nightmare.

"Yes, a nightmare," Hannah muttered to herself. Rubbing a hand over her eyes to wipe away the sleep, she flopped back down on the mattress. Turning to look at the clock on the night table, the red digits read 4:38 a.m. "Some messed up nightmare that is keeping me from getting any sleep. A stupid nightmare and nothing more."

Flicking the light off, Hannah rolled over onto her side and ran a hand through her short brown hair. "Just a disembodied voice in my nightmare that scared the crap outta me," she muttered. "What the hell did it mean anyways? An imprint?" She snorted. "Obviously I've been reading too many science fiction books. I really need to get back in touch with reality because I've been-"

Curling up into a ball, her hands wrapped around her chest, Hannah's eyes widened as one word the voice had spoken came back to her. Gears. 

_Gears._

Bio-engineered weapons of mass destruction. Beings that had developed sentience and had turned against their creators. They had razed entire cities to the ground and had massacred thousands of people. The voice had mentioned the Sacred Knighthood, human warriors that had once fought against the Gears. After a hundred years of fighting the knights had finally won the war against the Gears, but not without their own casualties. 

A small ball of ice formed in the pit of Hannah stomach and refused to melt. The young woman felt cold all over, and wrapped the blanket around her in an attempt to get warm. Gears still existed in the world and always, _always_ when a Gear was mentioned it was never good. Was it the same in the dream Hannah had had? She shivered and recalled what the voice had said. That she would come back.

"Just what Gear was that?" Hannah asked herself in the darkness. "Just what the hell is happening?"


	2. The Gear Revealed

Zepp was the world's most technologically advanced city. While it was part of a grand empire, the capital was itself never stationary, always moving from place to place. Floating above the surface of the Earth, the powerful anti-gravity fields that were housed into the metal base of Zepp keeping it afloat, the citizens could look down and appreciate the ever-changing view. Human eyes could gaze over the distant green fields, littered here and there with clumps of trees, rare to see in this day and age. Zepp coasted high over the oceans, gulls flying underneath the metropolis while an endangered species of whale rose to the surface of the grey waves.

Ships were always coming and going from the city. The docks, made up of an outer ring that surrounded Zepp, was full of airships that bore the banners of trade federations and clans. Trade was always brisk, illegal as well as legal. Legitimate businessmen from other nations docked at Zepp with the interests of the world markets on their minds, while the pirates were focused on how to steal the profits and make them their own. In the docking holds of the busy city, Zepp guardsmen were always alert for the shady character that might cause harm from the city within. It was because of these ever-present guardsmen that the crime rate inside the city, despite the black market, was surprisingly low.

The military presence in Zepp had always been strong. For a nation that held vast technological advancements unseen to the rest of the world, they needed the best of security to back it up. As the former president had once said, Zepp would lose its edge against the world if their secrets were stolen and then brought out to the general mass. Along the metropolis' outer walls, made of adamantium, there were anti-aircraft batteries with crews always watching the skies. Inside the city proper, soldiers walked briskly down the streets that were made from metal and mesh. For a nation that had just finished a war, and barely coming up as the winning side, Zepp was not quick to lose its military might as some of the other countries had been.

Hannah, who had lived every day of her life seeing the soldiers walk down the streets, who had seen the reconnaissance crafts fly overhead, did not pay attention to them today. She was still mulling over her nightmare, not bothering to really watch where she was going. Waking up late for her classes, Hannah hadn't bothered to rush to the institution. She was in a dark mood that day. 

Her grey eyes were red-rimmed and held bags under them. The girl had taken her time in getting dressed; wearing a pair of faded black jeans and an old purple hooded sweater. A black ski cap covered her unbrushed hair, the tips sticking out from underneath wildly. Not bothering to eat, Hannah had grabbed her art supplies and headed off, the magnetic lock on the door locking behind her.

_Gears. Why the hell did it have to be a Gear, of all things, to come into my head and start talking to me? Is there some sort of invisible sign over my head in Dreamland stating, "Come and enter Hannah's dream! She doesn't mind, she likes having her privacy invaded!" _Having walked the same route before, Hannah's feet had no problem going on autopilot while her mind was absorbed with its new problem. __

_I wonder what will happen if I tell anyone this? Would they lock me up and say that I'm in league with the Gears?  Zepp's history with the Gears have been bloody, and... _ Hannah's eyes looked up, past the buildings made of concrete and glass, and into the sky. Her grandmother had told her once that the citizens of Zepp had lived in fear when the sirens had wailed, signalling the approach of a Gear attack. That the chances of Zepp actually repelling the invaders were slim to none. _Then again,_ Hannah mused, _all the Gears that have ever been listed in the archives were the ones that were deactivated or destroyed. _

Suddenly the girl gave a short laugh, making a passing guardsman look at her weirdly. Hannah turned away, pulled her sweater's hood up over her face and continued on her way. _This means then that that voice in my dream couldn't have been a Gear! Yeah, that's right! Hell,_ she thought smugly, _if I do dream about that place again and meet that voice, I'm not gonna run this time. I'm going to say to it "You're a lying bastard! No Gears were sealed in another dimension; the books would have said so!"_

Pleased with her line of reasoning, Hannah's dark mood lifted. Giving a wide grin the young woman soon found herself walking faster to the institution where her classes were being held. Entering the tall building, made of a material that was similar to stainless steel, Hannah walked the familiar route down the corridors to her art class. Peering through the glass window into the classroom, seeing that the class was already well underway in painting on their canvases, Hannah gave a groan. She didn't see the teacher, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. The professor wasn't exactly the most inconspicuous of men.

Sliding open the door as quietly as possible, Hannah squeezed through the opening and edged along the wall of the classroom, heading for an empty seat near the back. She was nearly there when the voice of her art teacher made her freeze in her tracks.

"And why are you late, Ms. Hannah?"

All eyes in the classroom turned their attention to Hannah. An uneasy smile on her face, and the shame of being caught reddening it, Hannah turned around to face the teacher. Yes, he certainly wasn't someone anyone could miss. For a man that had once been a slave pit in the early days of Zepp rule, then someone who had turned into a warrior who fought the Gears, the art teacher at the institution was not someone anyone wanted to answer questions to.

Professor Potemkin folded his muscular arms over his chest and glared down at the late student, clearly not amused. Dwarfing Hannah by a good nine feet, Potemkin used his height to intimidate her as best as he could. Hannah had been late many times before, and while he was not above using the kinder methods to ensure that she would not be late, it was time for the art teacher to now use brute force.

"Well, what is your excuse this time?"

Hannah cleared her throat nervously; fingers gripped her art case tightly. "Well, I'm late because I was nearly hit by one of those crazy drivers. You know, the type that think they own the road and us pedestrians are nothing more than little people to hit and get points off of?" Judging by the look her professor was giving her; Hannah's story was sinking faster than a stone in water. She tried another excuse. "There was a lady who needed help getting her groceries home? A street fight that needed to be broken up? I was tripped by an invisible rabbit?"

Potemkin interrupted Hannah before she could make another lie. He waved away her excuses with a massive hand and pointed to an empty seat. "I don't care to hear any more excuses. Take your seat and work on your canvas." The teacher turned away, speaking as he walked back to the head of the class. "You do have an idea for an art project at least, don't you?"

"I uh... I..." Hannah hunched her shoulders forwards and muttered, "No sir, I don't." Her face burned with embarrassment as she heard snickers from the rest of the class. She knew what was going to happen next.

"You know my rules in the classroom," Potemkin stated firmly. "If you do not have an idea for class, then you are not only wasting your time, but mine. I have already marked you as absent, Hannah. Come back to class when you no longer wish to come late, and when you have an idea for an art project. This is a place for creativity and learning, not some place to slack off."

Walking slowly at first, and then picking up speed, Hannah moved back to the classroom's door. Wrenching it open, Hannah slammed the door behind her with as much force as possible, then turned and walked quickly back the way she had come. Hot tears of anger leaked from her eyes and coursed down her cheeks, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. The good mood that the young woman had been in was gone, and nothing else that happened to her today would make it any better.

Nearly tripping on her way out of the institution, Hannah growled angrily and stormed away down the street and back to her house. She was angrier with herself than at her teacher, but she would never admit such a thing.

Potemkin watched his student stalk away furiously though the streets and shook his head as she vanished around a corner. Hannah was one of the more... difficult cases that Potemkin had the unfortunate fate to be assigned with. The former warrior of Zepp had taken up the position of being an art teacher because he needed a change to his life. Potemkin's hobby, when he had not been assigned by Gabriel to participate in a black ops mission, was painting and drawing. After so much fighting, the warrior thought that the only good thing he could give back to humanity was something from the arts, and teaching it to the younger generation was something that he enjoyed.

Until he had met Hannah. Staring across the metallic landscape that was Zepp, a city that had once made him a slave and now hailed him as a hero, Potemkin recalled the first time he had met her. She had been accepted into the class only because the art portfolio that she had given in had amazed the professors' board. Hannah had been an introverted girl, rarely talking to anyone and staying much to herself. When she did show up to classes Hannah was either late or half-asleep. The work she did was mediocre at best, making Potemkin wonder if she really was all that keen on drawing to begin with, or being in the class as well. He had tried telling Hannah that she had better improve and soon or she would be thrown from the class. As far as Potemkin could tell, Hannah didn't seem to give a damn.

The way she acted reminded the Zepp warrior disturbingly of someone else he had once known, someone who did not give a care for rules or regulations and constantly flipped the middle finger in the face of the law. Shaking his head again, Potemkin mentally told himself that he would give Hannah one more chance and then if that did not work, she would not be allowed back to the institution again.

* * * 

_I told you that you would come back._

Hannah opened her eyes. Once again, she was floating in the darkness, only this time the pinpricks of light were high above her and beyond her reach. She found that she could control her movements even if she was weightless in the air. A part of Hannah was advising her that it was in her best interest to wake up from the dream –

(leave the dimension)

- that she was in, but a larger portion of her body and mind told her to toss the idea. Her day could not get any worse, and the voice and presence of a supposed Gear wouldn't make Hannah slide any lower down the ladder of depression.

"Yeah, I guess I am back," she replied in a voice devoid of energy. "Just to say, whatever you want to do, scare me and all, it's not gonna work. I don't really give a shit at this moment."

_Why is that?_

"I had a bad day," Hannah grumbled, "and I'm not going to talk about it. In fact, I really don't want to talk at all so you can go off and do something else to amuse yourself."

There was a lengthy silence for a moment, then, _If you do not want to talk, then that is fine by me. I, on the other hand, want to speak. It has been a long time since I have seen anyone and I would even enjoy the presence of a lowly human._

Hannah rolled over to her right, looking in the blackness to where the voice had come from. "Lowly human? Oh wow, I'm so glad that you think that for even a lowly human, I rate attention on your scale." The sarcasm was apparent in her voice. Any fear that Hannah had the night before from this supposed Gear had vanished.

_You seem to have a high opinion of yourself._

"The rest of the world doesn't seem to think the same," Hannah shot back. Crossing her left leg over her right and folding her arms behind her head, the young girl floated in the void. "You know, one day you think everything is going to be alright, then the next moment someone has to knock you back down to the ground and walk over you. That people want to keep you down under their thumb; that you have to follow their orders and all that shit."

_I know the feeling. _The air rippled around Hannah. _I know it all too well. That the moment you wish to gain independence, someone has to take it from you. That they must keep you on a short leash like a well-trained dog who must always follow the commands of its master._

Hannah cocked her head to one side. She thought she heard a tinge of regret in the voice. "Yeah," she replied, "yeah, its that feeling." She shook her head. "This is so crazy. I'm talking to a voice that's supposedly in another dimension."

_Why should it be crazy?_

"Because it is." A thought came to Hannah's mind. "You said that I left an imprint in here, before I decided to do the dash to the light deal?"

_Yes human, I did. A mental imprint._

"And you said yourself, whose supposedly a Gear-"

_I am a Gear!_ A note of indignant anger filled the voice.

Hannah held up her hands, palms outwards. "Sorry, sorry buddy. God, you don't have to take my head off, you know? Anyways, you said you were surprised that a human and not a Gear can travel to other dimensions. Why is that?"

_Gears are the superior race. The powers that we hold are unimaginable. Humans seem to have little in the way of mental power, but you have something that allows you to traverse the barriers. _A hint of curiosity entered into the next question. _Tell me human, what is your name?_

"What's it to you?" Hannah shot back, her hands now stuffed into her jeans pockets.

_I would like to know who I am addressing._

She snorted. "Wow, who would have thought that one moment you'd be chasing me and the next we're talking to pass the time? Fine then, you tell me your name and how the hell you got here then. My name's Hannah, Hannah Ziegt. And you are?"

The voice rose dramatically, like a person giving a proclamation. _I am Justice, the Gear Messiah. Once I walked the Earth and all feared my power. I was the one who brought about the war between the humans and the Gears. I was struggling for our independence from Mankind, who used us like slaves. And because I rose up against such injustice, I was sealed away here where I could no longer help my own kind._

Hannah was unimpressed. "I've never heard of you, buddy. And besides," she continued, "I don't even know what you look like. Gears were towering things, and who knows, maybe you might cast a big shadow but who is to say that you're not a small frog of some sort?"

_A frog? A frog?!_ Justice did not sound the least bit amused. _Do you wish to see my true form, Hannah Ziegt? To see the face of the Gear Messiah who made the Sacred Knighthood tremble in fear?_

A small quivering started in Hannah's legs. One moment it had been nothing but banter, now the conversation had taken a turn she had not expected. Swallowing loudly, forcing the shivering to stop, Hannah squared her shoulders. "Sure, go for it then, Justice. I'm not afraid of you. You're just a voice in the darkness."

The darkness in front of Hannah twisted into something... something that was definably not human. There was not flesh to Justice; his 'skin' looked to be a hard carapace of white armour. His hands were black, the ended tipped with wicked looking claws. A tail that bore resemblance to a spinal cord whipped out behind him, the end tipped with a scythe. Along Justice's shoulders the armour there was heavier, more bulky. It was edged in blue, with white spikes jutting out along the top. Hannah's mind registered it to be some sort of missile compartment of all things.

It was Justice's face, though, that held her attention. Yellow slitted eyes burned with a fierce intelligence; underneath Hannah could sense hatred towards the captors that had imprisoned Justice in his prison. He had no mouth... _All his thoughts are telepathic;_ Hannah's mind quickly flew with the information. A mass of flaming red hair, the colour of fresh blood, flowed down his back and over metal plates that to Hannah's eyes registered as ears. But it was impossible, because what she was seeing before her was not anything that was... human. 

Justice was a Gear as he had stated.

_Now that you have seen me, as I am Hannah, are you not in awe of me? Of what I am? Of what I could do? Of the fear of my kind?_

Nodding her head, all Hannah could utter was, "Impressive." Then she added, "But I never heard of a Gear called Justice."

_Never? The Knighthood has done its job well if they have eradicated every trace of me and made the civilians unaware of my existence._ Justice flexed his hands. _Why do such things not surprise me? The humans have become as stupid as the cattle that they truly are. Fit for nothing more than to be fodder for Gears._

Giving a shaky laugh, Hannah rubbed the back of her head. "Well, at least I know that I am talking to a Gear now... a psychotic one who has a hatred to all humankind and thinks he's a messiah," she added under her breath. Justice turned his eyes to Hannah, studying her intently.

_What did you say just then, Hannah?_ Justice took a step towards her. For a being that was even taller than Potemkin, Hannah was afraid that she might get trampled under Justice's feet.

"Ohwee, look at the time!" Hannah made a show of looking at a watch that she did not have on her wrist. "I have to get going. You know, I need my sleep and all that. I'm just a human after all, not some all-powerful Gear." Hannah began to back away from Justice.

_Do not patronize me. You said something._

Shaking her head vigorously in denial, Hannah looked for a small point of light that would allow her to leave the dimension she was in. "I didn't say anything important. It's been nice meeting you Justice, but I really have to get going."

Another step backwards.

_You will return, Hannah._ The way Justice spoke it; it was as if he was giving her an order.

Another foot placed behind her, more distance between her and the Gear. "Of course I'll be back, Justice. Like you said, I'm always going to be coming back here."

_Yes, you will_, he mused.

"Well then, ta for now!" Before the Gear could react, Hannah had darted off to a point of light not twenty feet from her. If Justice was following her, he gave no sign, for Hannah was already at the light and grasping it in between her hands. When she woke, sprawled out on the couch in the living room, the young girl gave a smile.

She had an idea for her art project now.


	3. But It Was Only a Painting

"Take the paints that you need and make sure to use all you have. The institution doesn't have all the money in Zepp, so we have to be careful with the materials that we do have," Potemkin told his students as they milled about, collecting their easels and canvases for the class work. His voice carried easily over the scraping of stools, the occasional swear word from one of the students and the rattling of the paint cans. 

The students set up where they wanted to; some in a semi-circle, others over near the windows and the odd one or two facing the corners of the classroom. Someone had brought an old digital disc with the label _Queen_ written across the front and began playing the music for the enjoyment of the class. Soon everyone was busy working, lost in his or her own world, and Potemkin began to take attendance. The slave turned warrior had silently made a bet with himself that Hannah would not be showing up today as he checked off the names. Coming down to Hannah Ziegt, Potemkin's eyes scanned the classroom looking for the wayward student. He was about to mark her absent for the last time when he saw her at the back of the classroom near one of the windows, her easel in front of her making Hannah all but invisible.

A rueful smile crossed Potemkin's face. So she finally had decided to show up, and judging from the way she was working furiously, had found an idea. Placing the list down on his desk, the art teacher strolled around the room, giving comments and tips on some of the students' works before finally arriving next to Hannah. Dressed in grey coveralls with a deep blue shirt, Hannah's hair was still hidden under her black hat. Her mixing board had swirls of colour on it, and flecks of the paint were smattered across her cheeks and over her right hand. She didn't seem to notice the professor looking at her.

"Hannah, you finally have an idea that seems to have possessed you," Potemkin stated. The girl blinked suddenly, then turned to face him.

"Yep, I certainly do. Just kinda came out of the darkness, you could say." She turned back to her canvas, her paintbrush tracing a thick red line down the left side of her work.

"And what is it about?"

Hannah shook her head. "Can't say, not right now. I'll be finished this in about three hours. The class goes all day, so I have plenty of time. You can come back and see it then, prof."

Taken a little aback from Hannah's blunt speech, Potemkin looked over her shoulder to see if he could figure out what she was drawing. It didn't look anything organic like, and from the lines Hannah had already traced lightly over her canvas, the object of her attention seemed to be more mechanical than anything else.

"Very well then, just make sure that you don't use up all the white and red paint." Turning to head back to the front of the class, Potemkin began to set out his own easel and painting that he had brought in from his home. No one would suspect that such a giant of a man would have the soul of an artist, but then most people that knew Potemkin only knew one side of him. The Zepp warrior wasn't exactly the keenest of people to change the mental image that people got from him, and it was just as well. 

Touching up on a water colouring of a grove that he had once seen in his travels, Potemkin drifted off into his own world, his foot tapping out the rhythm to _Queen's _"We Will Rock You." 

Hannah's hands literally flew across the canvas as she tried to remember what Justice looked like and transfer his image into something more substantial. Before her eyes the Gear's form began to take hold. First the flaming red hair that Hannah remembered so well from him appeared, following by the heavy shoulder armour and the talons. She made the tail coil around his legs like a deadly serpent, mixing the colours until it looked as if there was real light shining on the deadly scythe at the end. Hannah spent the longest part of her class working on the eyes, capturing the cool and deadly intelligence that lurked within.

When the institution's bell rang the lunch hour, most of the students dropped what they had been doing and immediately headed off to the cafeteria. A few, Hannah included, stayed behind to finish up on their work. Potemkin took this moment to walk back over to Hannah and see how far she had come along. The girl, who had been cleaning off her brushes over by the sink, turned her head to the side to judge her teacher's reaction. _He'll be impressed I know it. I worked so hard on getting everything down; hell I can even maybe put that painting up in a gallery_, Hannah gleefully thought. For her, things seemed to finally be turning around.

It was Professor Potemkin's reaction that made Hannah's gut sink.

He had stepped back from the canvas at first to grade the work she had done, looking thoughtful with a hand on his chin. Then it looked as if the Zepp warrior had been slapped full across the face. Potemkin's skin, while dark, turned almost ashen as he stepped closer to look at the painting. Lifting it off the easel and into his massive hands, Potemkin nearly pressed his face up to the still drying paint. Then, without warning, the professor dropped the canvas to the ground and turned on Hannah.

All the students that had remained in the classroom looked at their teacher. No one had seen him angry, but there was a first time for everything. And right now, it was the first time they had ever seen him angry.

"Where did you see this? How do you know of these things Hannah?" he spoke daggers to Hannah. Dropping her brushes into the sink with a surprised look, Hannah's eyes quickly narrowed as she balled her hands into fists. Potemkin's rant continued as he walked towards the student. "I asked you a question and you will answer it! Where did you find the image of this Gear?! WHERE!!"

By this time all the students had bolted. They feared more for their lives than the unfolding drama, and not one of them were willingly going to risk their necks for Hannah. Standing up against Potemkin was a challenge few were willing to take, but Hannah stood where she was, her own face filled with anger.

"You think you can pressure me into telling you where that image of that Gear came from? You can't work this police crap on me, prof! I know my rights!"

"At this moment you have no rights," Potemkin thundered. "What you have put as your artwork was something once that the whole world feared, something that people didn't want to know anything about. That knowledge was suppressed. And now here is some student who knows nothing of world politics creating an image that for the past hundred years has caused whole nations to live in terror!"

Hannah backed up as Potemkin advanced on her, her back sliding along the wall. The massive warrior sidestepped her, effectively cutting off her escape route. "You are not going anywhere," he growled. "By the powers that have been given to me by Zepp, as a warrior of the nation, I Potemkin, am placing you Hannah Ziegt, under arrest for suspicion of knowledge of the Command Gear Justice." Potemkin quickly strode to the front of the room and flicked on the intercom switch. In his deep voice he informed the operator on the other end that he required security in the art studio as quickly as possible.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. Hannah didn't believe any of the words she was hearing, or the situation that had happened so quickly. While the logical side of her mind shut off in numb horror, the survivalist inside took over. Hannah had heard about Zepp's jail cells; her mother had worked there and she had no intention of visiting. As Potemkin reached forwards to grab Hannah in his massive hands, the girl ducked underneath and to the left. Rolling along the floor and springing quickly to her feet, Hannah raced towards the door of the classroom.

Sprinting around the corner and not bothering to look behind her, Hannah took off down the halls of the institution at a dead run. The peoples faces in the corridors became nothing more than blurs as she whipped past them, knocking over a few or crashing into a couple that were too slow to move out of her way. Behind her, Hannah could hear surprised yells, as the students no doubt got out of the way as Potemkin barrelled after her.

_All of this just because of a painting! If I knew this was going to happen then I would have stuck to drawing flowers,_ Hannah thought too late. Turning to her right, Hannah began racing down a flight of stairs, taking them two at a time. Anyone who got in her way was knocked down in the girl's panic. 

She knew she wasn't a criminal; she hadn't done anything wrong. What knowledge did she have of Justice? Hannah had only talked to the Gear twice in her dreams, and even then it wasn't for that long! How could something like a picture land her in Zepp's prisons with no chance of escape? From the way Potemkin had been going on about the Command Gear, he was acting like it had been one of the biggest threats that mankind had faced during the hundred year war.

"Institution security! Stop at once or prepare for the consequences!"

Hannah grabbed a hold of the railing, coming to a completely halt on the stairwell as she faced the institution's security that stood waiting at the bottom. Dressed in black body gloves and wearing riot gear, they were treating Hannah like she really was a threat. The students that had been milling about now stared in frozen shock at what was happening. The leader had a baton out and held it loosely in one hand. Pointing it at Hannah, he spoke.

"Come quietly and nothing bad will happen."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Hannah spoke gruffly. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"That's up for the courts to decide," the leader of the squad spoke. He began to advance on Hannah. She took a step back up the stairwell.

"Fuck you, I didn't do anything wrong and I'm sure as hell not going to jail!" Not waiting another moment, Hannah leapt over the side of the stairwell and down to the ground. It was a jarring impact, and she felt a flash of pain up along her legs. As the institution's security moved forwards to grab Hannah, the girl was off once again and running.

Her lungs were burning for air. More than once Hannah felt like her legs were about to give out from under her. The students, hoping to help capture this seemingly dangerous student, began to block the exits from her. As Hannah raced along a gallery, one or two of the students actually tried to grab her by the legs and bring her to the ground. Hannah decided to finally give up when she rounded the last corner and smacked headfirst into Potemkin. The impact was so powerful it threw the girl right back onto the floor. All she could do was dully sit up and try to make sense of the spinning world as she was handcuffed.

"You will be placed under maximum security until we can figure out what this is all about," Potemkin explained to Hannah as she was escorted out of the building and into the waiting anti-grav car. He looked the girl straight in the eye and wondered briefly for a moment how she had come to know about Justice. "And representatives of the once-Sacred Knighthood will be contacted to deal with you."

Closing the door, Potemkin gave the signal for the driver to head off. As the armoured car rounded a corner and was lost from view, the art teacher pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered around the institution. Heading back into the deserted art studio, Potemkin lifted the canvas of Justice off from the ground and looked it over. He remembered being part of the Tournament to seal the damn thing away, and he remembered all too well the slaughters that followed in Justice's wake. What Hannah had to do with such a thing, Potemkin hoped that he would find out soon. He had to place a call to President Gabriel, who would then notify the people that would be able to handle the growing problem that not only Zepp, but perhaps the whole world, could be facing.

~~~

Parry. Thrust. Counter. Slid back into a defensive position.

Ky Kiske, once a high-ranking officer within the now disbanded Sacred Knighthood and now an officer of the law, stood outside in the gardens near his headquarters in France and practiced his sword technique. Just because it was a time of peace did not mean that he could become lax with his training. There was always a threat in the world; Ky had learned that much in his twenty-five years. He had faced down threats that would have made lesser people faint, and he owed his survival only to his own skill and sometimes to that of the faithful companions that he travelled with.

Lowering his lightning sword, Ky wiped his brow with the back of his hand and decided that taking a break would be the best thing at the moment. Looking up at the sun, high above in the sky and creating the sweltering heat that was common in the summer; the knight sat down on one of the benches and closed his eyes.

"Mr. Kiske. There is a matter of the highest importance that concerns you!" The aide's voice brought Ky back to the present, and opening his eyes he could see the aide from headquarters walking quickly through the garden towards him, holding a white piece of paper in one hand and waving it around.

Ky accepted it from the aide, nodded his thanks to the young man, then quickly read over the words printed in black ink. What he saw there made him drop the lightning sword from nerveless fingers.

"Sir," the aide inquired. "Are you all right?"

"I need immediate transport to Zepp," Ky turned to the aide, speaking quickly. "Contact the United Nations and have them send the inner council. Do it quickly! Do it right now!" The aide nodded and took off running through the garden and back to the white building that was headquarters. Ky looked at the paper he was holding with disbelief, then quickly crumbled it.

"Pray God that this is not so," he whispered. "Pray God."


End file.
